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deathsmajestyThe first juggler, wearing studded red leathers and ribbons that ended in sharp metal fishhooks, impressively juggled six flaming torches. The second juggler juggled eight human skulls. The third juggled twelve flaming skulls. The fourth juggler was an undead skeleton, bones reinforced with wrought iron, including four wrought-iron horns mimicking those of its master, Rakdos the Defiler. It juggled flaming cat skulls pulled from a small furnace smoldering within its own rib cage.
Without warning, the skeleton flung one of these small burning skulls at one of the members of Liliana's group. He ducked and yelped, managing to bat the skull away by luck alone. The skull ricocheted off his hand and struck the skeleton in the face. The man hissed in pain at the burn and the skeleton laughed a hoarse airless laugh, which stopped the hissing and caused him to shiver instead.
Another of their party tried to reassure him. "They're just trying to intimidate you."
The man looked at the ground and grumbled, "It's working."
The skeleton whispered, "You've got us all wrong, madam. We're just trying to entertain you."
The man glared at the skeleton and said, "It's not working."
The skeleton laughed again and said, "Well, at least you're entertaining me." He glanced over at Liliana, who wasn't bothering to hide her smile, and dipped an elegant bow. She responded with a regal nod and a soft clap and the skeleton backflipped away.
It was important to acknowledge the skills of the performers working so hard to entertain you.
Their little group was descending the five hundred steep steps of the Demon's Vestibule toward Rix Maadi, guildhall of the Cult of Rakdos and their most extravagant and dangerous venue of all. Veins of lava running down the wurm-carved walls shed a dull-red light across all they could see. Another performer was perched on every fourth or fifth step, to continue to 'entertain' them as they moved.
After the jugglers came the puppeteers, each with a marionette designed to bring nightmares. One held a brutally accurate caricature of a razorwitch, complete with actual razors. Seemingly of its own volition, the puppet threw very real razors at the group. The small blades weren't thrown with quite enough force to cause any serious damage to anyone in the group they hit, though one person was left with a small cut on his arm and another's face had been nicked and was slowly dripping a line of blood down her cheek. A lock of Liliana's hair drifted down to the ground; she'd shifted to avoid a cut, but using magic to avoid damage would only single her out for more damage. And, more importantly, it would make her look weak.
Puppeteers gave way to caged horrors with masked devils seated atop the cages, ready and willing to set the little monsters free. These particular horrors, spidery things that huffed and puffed and screeched and wailed, were only the size of raccoons - but then again on this tight, claustrophobic staircase, a raccoon-sized horror would be quite sufficient to do significant damage to any or all of their party. The devils giggled wildly and constantly motioned toward the latches, threatening to open their cages. The man from earlier flinched every time, which only encouraged the behavior. The walls were lined, smeared, with hundreds of torn and overlapping banners, some advertising centuries-old performances, most incorporating some insult to one of the other guilds, with Orzhov, Azorius and Boros being the most common or popular targets. The party stopped to stare at one banner that appeared as ancient as any but depicted all of them hanging like marionettes, each from a single string wrapped tightly around their throats. Their heads lolled, their tongues stuck out, their limbs were slack, their faces bloated and blue.
"An excellent likeness," Liliana complimented the little imp that was chortling at their expressions.
Another of the the group just stared at her. "How are you so calm about this?" she demanded, pale under her skin's natural darker complexion.
"Darling, how many platinum zinos did your ticket cost?" Liliana asked. "I know I didn't pay that much to not appreciate the spectacle." There were uneasy nods of agreement, mostly at the reminder that they were paying customers. Kindly, Liliana didn't point out that last time she'd been here, a rabid hellhound had been released upon the stairs and more than one attendee had been mauled before the creature had been taken down. Though, that kindness stemmed mostly from not being sure whether that had been intentional or an accident on the cultists' part.
Past the devils and their horrors were the fire-breathers. Another person began the intricate motions to create a shield, but their companion arrested their hand and shook her head, citing the same logic Liliana had used before. "You'll only encourage them." Liliana kept striding forward, stopping only when a performer stepped out in front of her, raising a hand that was missing two fingers. She was not allowed to continue on without the rest of her group either with her, choosing to turn back, or too grievously injured to continue. With a huff, she turned back around to see the rest of them still huddled up before the first fire-breather. "Oh for--" She rolled her eyes and gestured towards them imperiously. "Just pay attention, and when they inhale, pass them by."
Choosing to come to Rix Maadi had been a mistake. She'd been focusing on how well the ambience had suited her mood and not on the fact that she would yoked to other people and their timidity.
The deeper they went, the hotter and closer the air became, and not just because of the fire-breathers. The red veins in the curving walls were wider down here and more liquid, the searing lava dripped down onto the steps and needed to be carefully avoided if one wanted to keep one's boots intact — or one's feet. The fire-breathers gave way to unicyclists, who balanced impressively in place, rolling back and forth within the span of a few inches, on devices that appeared designed for a torture chamber: spokes of barbed wire, clawed wheels, seats made from axe blades. More than one of the riders bled. Every rider came close to slicing gashes in their little party. The rest of the group didn't seem to appreciate that the artistry came from them not doing so.
Finally, they reached the bottom step, and the Vestibule terminated at the Festival Grounds, which were guarded by two immense ogres wearing masks made from actual ogre skulls. Again, everyone else hesitated but the ogres ignored them all, and Liliana ignored them back, continuing forward across the large courtyard, her groupmate scuttling in her wake like ducklings. In center of the courtyard was a cracked and graffitied fountain featuring a statue of a centaur. From a certain angle, the statue was surprisingly elegant, but as they approached they could see that chunks of marble had been broken off the man-horse as if by a sledgehammer. Water dribbled from broken lips, and that water in turn dribbled out of the cracked fountain and down through a crack in the floor, where it rose again as steam. Above them, unoccupied trapeze swings hung from rusty hooks, while a single young pigtailed tightrope walker, in a black-and-red harlequin leotard, glided heedlessly across a threadbare strand. Her movements were full of grace, drawing the eye. She glanced down at her new audience, and several people gasped: the girl's lips and eyelids had been stitched shut. There were empty cages large enough to hold human horrors. And everything, absolutely everything, was haphazardly painted with splatters of blood. At the far end of the Festival Grounds, two more skull-masked ogres stood guard before the ornate stone façade of Rix Maadi. Like the first pair, these ogres seemed to take no notice of passersby.
Rix Maadi's façade was literally that. Within was no architecture—just a massive natural volcanic cavern. Steam rose from a huge central lava pit and was vented above by natural chimneys that presumably ran all the way up to Ravnica's surface. They were sweating profusely now and even Liliana's hairline was beaded with perspiration despite her body's (un)naturally low temperature. One of their number shrugged and said, "It's not the heat; it's the humidity," as he mopped his face with a handkerchief. Stone causeways crisscrossed the lava pit. Steel cables crisscrossed the ceiling, supporting more rusty cages and hooks. Blood-filled basins dotted the landscape. So did dozing hellhounds. The walls were pockmarked with dozens of doors to dozens of chambers. Laughter emanated from some. Screams from others. Both from many. To their left, at ground level, a large aperture in the wall was shrouded by a supernatural mist of pure shadow. A foul breeze wafted forth from within. They no longer had to stick together, thank Gaia, but Liliana's duckling escort shuffled after her as she headed for one of the larger doorways, through which they could hear the sound of a large crowd and the smell of roasting meat. There was a reason all of the bloodiest Rakdosian shows were held near the carnariums. It cut down on the distance between where the meat fell in the ring and where it had to be ported to for roasting and smoking.
Without a word to the rest of the group, Liliana flashed her ticket and went to take her seat towards the front of the stadium. She waved away a platter of what was likely roasted lizard strips but could just as easily not been, but did accept a thick butcher's apron and a hat. From as riled as everyone here was, today's show was likely to be a doozy.
***
Liliana surfaced into the streets of the Upper City well after midnight, still idly wiping away the spatters of blood - and worse - that had pelted her during the spectacle. It hadn't been the pitfights that she'd been expecting, but instead a showing of The Aria of Hilrod, which the Rakdos hadn't put since the death of Rinni, one of their most legendary performers, had died (onstage, of course, after the final bows, bleeding and burned and elated, exactly how he would have wanted to go) out of respect for his mighty talent. In fact the showing tonight had been dedicated to him, by the wizened form of Ginoria, one of Rinni's onstage partners, which had only added to the frenzy. This was why she made a moue of distaste when she found half a severed ear caught on one of the loops in her golden headdress but not one of surprise. Instead, she just dropped it into one of the Golgari collection buckets and continued on her way to her townhouse. A bath would be good, something to eat that she could verify the provenance of (which meant neither Rakdosian fare nor Golgari), and perhaps a short rest before she returned to Fandom.
Or, she thought irritably, perhaps a good night's sleep instead. Why should I rush back?
Hmm. Apparently the bloody distraction hadn't smoothed out the worst edges of her temper after all.
She reached into her pocket for her keys, frowning as her fingers hit something that was neither metal nor silk. She let herself in, sending mental instructions to the single zombie maidservant she'd left here, and reached for the crinkling item. What was--? Ah yes. The note.
She rolled her eyes, frustrated mostly with herself that she hadn't been able to figure out what was nagging at her about it. It was a note, a single slip of paper, only a few lines long, wishing her good luck with her first class, hoping she had a good day. The kind of insipid message you'd leave for a colleague you hardly knew, barely worth the time it took to write out--
Her foot paused on the stairs leading up to her townhouse's (much inferior) bathing chamber, where, even now, a steaming bath was being prepared for her, and stared down at the note. It was pretty much exactly what she would have expected a note from Ignis to look like. Spare, efficient penmanship, high-quality paper, the writing straight and precise. Brusque, almost. Letters that eschewed fancy curlicues or graceful loops, but time and care given to ensure that every letter was neat and uniform and...and...
All of that made sense from when Ignis had been sighted, certainly, but now? Liliana had taken copious notes when her attention was somewhere not on the page beneath her hand, even with her eyes closed, nodding off as she worked and never once had those come out as anything other than messy scrawls. This note, however, was nearly pristine, save where she herself had crumpled it.
How long had it taken him to write this out so flawlessly? How many attempts to guarantee that each line was perfectly straight, each character perfectly formed, every i and j dotted, every t crossed? In her head, the brevity took on new context, as she imagined him paring down every extraneous word until it could say exactly what he wanted in as few characters as possible for him to write out. That was what had been nagging at her, that was why she hadn't been able to throw the note away. Because it wasn't some off-hand note thrown together quickly to try to smooth over her bad temper.
Just the opposite.
"...Oh," she said softly, as the full weight of his gesture - and herpetulant reaction to it - hit her like a Helldozer to the face.
"Mistress, your bath is ready," her maid called.
Liliana snapped to attention, carefully folding the note up and tucking it into her pocket. "No time," she said. "Just a basin of hot water and a washcloth. Hurry!"
She couldn't return to Fandom like this, the faint traces of dried sweat on her brow and other people's blood on her skin. And suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be back on the island.
She wanted to be home.
***
Liliana let herself into the mansion, the piece of shaped metal in her hands a twin to the the one she'd pressed into Ignis' hand the day before her party, full of meaning and significance. She tossed her mantle over a table in the foyer, and started making her way deeper into the house to head upstairs to the bedroom - though she stopped short when her steward stepped into the way. He said nothing, simply bowed - and gestured into the parlor. Frowning she walked into the room - and there saw Ignis, sprawled on the divan, his phone in his hand, sleeping the sleep of the positively exhausted.
Part of her didn't wish to wake him. Surely any conversation they could have could wait until the morning. But also she knew what she would want him to do, were their roles reversed. And how she would feel, to find him sleeping blithely up in the bed, while being left to sleep on the divan. So instead, she crossed to him, bending down to brush cold lips across his cheek, and murmur, "Wake up, 'Nys. It's time to come to bed."
[For he who is mentioned and permissibly modded! Pretty much everything in the first section c/p'd directly from Greg Weisman's War of the Spark: Ravnica and then lightly changed for content. (Look, it's a perfect depiction of Rakdos entertainment and it needed to see the light of day). Content warning beneath that first cut for gore and violence! Everything on Ravnica NFB, obviously.]
Without warning, the skeleton flung one of these small burning skulls at one of the members of Liliana's group. He ducked and yelped, managing to bat the skull away by luck alone. The skull ricocheted off his hand and struck the skeleton in the face. The man hissed in pain at the burn and the skeleton laughed a hoarse airless laugh, which stopped the hissing and caused him to shiver instead.
Another of their party tried to reassure him. "They're just trying to intimidate you."
The man looked at the ground and grumbled, "It's working."
The skeleton whispered, "You've got us all wrong, madam. We're just trying to entertain you."
The man glared at the skeleton and said, "It's not working."
The skeleton laughed again and said, "Well, at least you're entertaining me." He glanced over at Liliana, who wasn't bothering to hide her smile, and dipped an elegant bow. She responded with a regal nod and a soft clap and the skeleton backflipped away.
It was important to acknowledge the skills of the performers working so hard to entertain you.
Their little group was descending the five hundred steep steps of the Demon's Vestibule toward Rix Maadi, guildhall of the Cult of Rakdos and their most extravagant and dangerous venue of all. Veins of lava running down the wurm-carved walls shed a dull-red light across all they could see. Another performer was perched on every fourth or fifth step, to continue to 'entertain' them as they moved.
After the jugglers came the puppeteers, each with a marionette designed to bring nightmares. One held a brutally accurate caricature of a razorwitch, complete with actual razors. Seemingly of its own volition, the puppet threw very real razors at the group. The small blades weren't thrown with quite enough force to cause any serious damage to anyone in the group they hit, though one person was left with a small cut on his arm and another's face had been nicked and was slowly dripping a line of blood down her cheek. A lock of Liliana's hair drifted down to the ground; she'd shifted to avoid a cut, but using magic to avoid damage would only single her out for more damage. And, more importantly, it would make her look weak.
Puppeteers gave way to caged horrors with masked devils seated atop the cages, ready and willing to set the little monsters free. These particular horrors, spidery things that huffed and puffed and screeched and wailed, were only the size of raccoons - but then again on this tight, claustrophobic staircase, a raccoon-sized horror would be quite sufficient to do significant damage to any or all of their party. The devils giggled wildly and constantly motioned toward the latches, threatening to open their cages. The man from earlier flinched every time, which only encouraged the behavior. The walls were lined, smeared, with hundreds of torn and overlapping banners, some advertising centuries-old performances, most incorporating some insult to one of the other guilds, with Orzhov, Azorius and Boros being the most common or popular targets. The party stopped to stare at one banner that appeared as ancient as any but depicted all of them hanging like marionettes, each from a single string wrapped tightly around their throats. Their heads lolled, their tongues stuck out, their limbs were slack, their faces bloated and blue.
"An excellent likeness," Liliana complimented the little imp that was chortling at their expressions.
Another of the the group just stared at her. "How are you so calm about this?" she demanded, pale under her skin's natural darker complexion.
"Darling, how many platinum zinos did your ticket cost?" Liliana asked. "I know I didn't pay that much to not appreciate the spectacle." There were uneasy nods of agreement, mostly at the reminder that they were paying customers. Kindly, Liliana didn't point out that last time she'd been here, a rabid hellhound had been released upon the stairs and more than one attendee had been mauled before the creature had been taken down. Though, that kindness stemmed mostly from not being sure whether that had been intentional or an accident on the cultists' part.
Past the devils and their horrors were the fire-breathers. Another person began the intricate motions to create a shield, but their companion arrested their hand and shook her head, citing the same logic Liliana had used before. "You'll only encourage them." Liliana kept striding forward, stopping only when a performer stepped out in front of her, raising a hand that was missing two fingers. She was not allowed to continue on without the rest of her group either with her, choosing to turn back, or too grievously injured to continue. With a huff, she turned back around to see the rest of them still huddled up before the first fire-breather. "Oh for--" She rolled her eyes and gestured towards them imperiously. "Just pay attention, and when they inhale, pass them by."
Choosing to come to Rix Maadi had been a mistake. She'd been focusing on how well the ambience had suited her mood and not on the fact that she would yoked to other people and their timidity.
The deeper they went, the hotter and closer the air became, and not just because of the fire-breathers. The red veins in the curving walls were wider down here and more liquid, the searing lava dripped down onto the steps and needed to be carefully avoided if one wanted to keep one's boots intact — or one's feet. The fire-breathers gave way to unicyclists, who balanced impressively in place, rolling back and forth within the span of a few inches, on devices that appeared designed for a torture chamber: spokes of barbed wire, clawed wheels, seats made from axe blades. More than one of the riders bled. Every rider came close to slicing gashes in their little party. The rest of the group didn't seem to appreciate that the artistry came from them not doing so.
Finally, they reached the bottom step, and the Vestibule terminated at the Festival Grounds, which were guarded by two immense ogres wearing masks made from actual ogre skulls. Again, everyone else hesitated but the ogres ignored them all, and Liliana ignored them back, continuing forward across the large courtyard, her groupmate scuttling in her wake like ducklings. In center of the courtyard was a cracked and graffitied fountain featuring a statue of a centaur. From a certain angle, the statue was surprisingly elegant, but as they approached they could see that chunks of marble had been broken off the man-horse as if by a sledgehammer. Water dribbled from broken lips, and that water in turn dribbled out of the cracked fountain and down through a crack in the floor, where it rose again as steam. Above them, unoccupied trapeze swings hung from rusty hooks, while a single young pigtailed tightrope walker, in a black-and-red harlequin leotard, glided heedlessly across a threadbare strand. Her movements were full of grace, drawing the eye. She glanced down at her new audience, and several people gasped: the girl's lips and eyelids had been stitched shut. There were empty cages large enough to hold human horrors. And everything, absolutely everything, was haphazardly painted with splatters of blood. At the far end of the Festival Grounds, two more skull-masked ogres stood guard before the ornate stone façade of Rix Maadi. Like the first pair, these ogres seemed to take no notice of passersby.
Rix Maadi's façade was literally that. Within was no architecture—just a massive natural volcanic cavern. Steam rose from a huge central lava pit and was vented above by natural chimneys that presumably ran all the way up to Ravnica's surface. They were sweating profusely now and even Liliana's hairline was beaded with perspiration despite her body's (un)naturally low temperature. One of their number shrugged and said, "It's not the heat; it's the humidity," as he mopped his face with a handkerchief. Stone causeways crisscrossed the lava pit. Steel cables crisscrossed the ceiling, supporting more rusty cages and hooks. Blood-filled basins dotted the landscape. So did dozing hellhounds. The walls were pockmarked with dozens of doors to dozens of chambers. Laughter emanated from some. Screams from others. Both from many. To their left, at ground level, a large aperture in the wall was shrouded by a supernatural mist of pure shadow. A foul breeze wafted forth from within. They no longer had to stick together, thank Gaia, but Liliana's duckling escort shuffled after her as she headed for one of the larger doorways, through which they could hear the sound of a large crowd and the smell of roasting meat. There was a reason all of the bloodiest Rakdosian shows were held near the carnariums. It cut down on the distance between where the meat fell in the ring and where it had to be ported to for roasting and smoking.
Without a word to the rest of the group, Liliana flashed her ticket and went to take her seat towards the front of the stadium. She waved away a platter of what was likely roasted lizard strips but could just as easily not been, but did accept a thick butcher's apron and a hat. From as riled as everyone here was, today's show was likely to be a doozy.
Liliana surfaced into the streets of the Upper City well after midnight, still idly wiping away the spatters of blood - and worse - that had pelted her during the spectacle. It hadn't been the pitfights that she'd been expecting, but instead a showing of The Aria of Hilrod, which the Rakdos hadn't put since the death of Rinni, one of their most legendary performers, had died (onstage, of course, after the final bows, bleeding and burned and elated, exactly how he would have wanted to go) out of respect for his mighty talent. In fact the showing tonight had been dedicated to him, by the wizened form of Ginoria, one of Rinni's onstage partners, which had only added to the frenzy. This was why she made a moue of distaste when she found half a severed ear caught on one of the loops in her golden headdress but not one of surprise. Instead, she just dropped it into one of the Golgari collection buckets and continued on her way to her townhouse. A bath would be good, something to eat that she could verify the provenance of (which meant neither Rakdosian fare nor Golgari), and perhaps a short rest before she returned to Fandom.
Or, she thought irritably, perhaps a good night's sleep instead. Why should I rush back?
Hmm. Apparently the bloody distraction hadn't smoothed out the worst edges of her temper after all.
She reached into her pocket for her keys, frowning as her fingers hit something that was neither metal nor silk. She let herself in, sending mental instructions to the single zombie maidservant she'd left here, and reached for the crinkling item. What was--? Ah yes. The note.
She rolled her eyes, frustrated mostly with herself that she hadn't been able to figure out what was nagging at her about it. It was a note, a single slip of paper, only a few lines long, wishing her good luck with her first class, hoping she had a good day. The kind of insipid message you'd leave for a colleague you hardly knew, barely worth the time it took to write out--
Her foot paused on the stairs leading up to her townhouse's (much inferior) bathing chamber, where, even now, a steaming bath was being prepared for her, and stared down at the note. It was pretty much exactly what she would have expected a note from Ignis to look like. Spare, efficient penmanship, high-quality paper, the writing straight and precise. Brusque, almost. Letters that eschewed fancy curlicues or graceful loops, but time and care given to ensure that every letter was neat and uniform and...and...
All of that made sense from when Ignis had been sighted, certainly, but now? Liliana had taken copious notes when her attention was somewhere not on the page beneath her hand, even with her eyes closed, nodding off as she worked and never once had those come out as anything other than messy scrawls. This note, however, was nearly pristine, save where she herself had crumpled it.
How long had it taken him to write this out so flawlessly? How many attempts to guarantee that each line was perfectly straight, each character perfectly formed, every i and j dotted, every t crossed? In her head, the brevity took on new context, as she imagined him paring down every extraneous word until it could say exactly what he wanted in as few characters as possible for him to write out. That was what had been nagging at her, that was why she hadn't been able to throw the note away. Because it wasn't some off-hand note thrown together quickly to try to smooth over her bad temper.
Just the opposite.
"...Oh," she said softly, as the full weight of his gesture - and her
"Mistress, your bath is ready," her maid called.
Liliana snapped to attention, carefully folding the note up and tucking it into her pocket. "No time," she said. "Just a basin of hot water and a washcloth. Hurry!"
She couldn't return to Fandom like this, the faint traces of dried sweat on her brow and other people's blood on her skin. And suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be back on the island.
She wanted to be home.
Liliana let herself into the mansion, the piece of shaped metal in her hands a twin to the the one she'd pressed into Ignis' hand the day before her party, full of meaning and significance. She tossed her mantle over a table in the foyer, and started making her way deeper into the house to head upstairs to the bedroom - though she stopped short when her steward stepped into the way. He said nothing, simply bowed - and gestured into the parlor. Frowning she walked into the room - and there saw Ignis, sprawled on the divan, his phone in his hand, sleeping the sleep of the positively exhausted.
Part of her didn't wish to wake him. Surely any conversation they could have could wait until the morning. But also she knew what she would want him to do, were their roles reversed. And how she would feel, to find him sleeping blithely up in the bed, while being left to sleep on the divan. So instead, she crossed to him, bending down to brush cold lips across his cheek, and murmur, "Wake up, 'Nys. It's time to come to bed."
[For he who is mentioned and permissibly modded! Pretty much everything in the first section c/p'd directly from Greg Weisman's War of the Spark: Ravnica and then lightly changed for content. (Look, it's a perfect depiction of Rakdos entertainment and it needed to see the light of day). Content warning beneath that first cut for gore and violence! Everything on Ravnica NFB, obviously.]
Tags:
- [rinni],
- lili has a lot of emotions okay?,
- lili makes the best choices,
- planes: ravnica,
- post: closed,
- this warning not in jest,
- warning: gore/body horror,
- what: communication breakdown,
- what: mutilating canon for fun & profit,
- what: teal deer crossing,
- what: this is gonna hurt,
- what: ugh using our words like adults,
- where: creepy abandoned mansion,
- where: ravnican townhouse,
- where: rix maadi,
- who: cult of rakdos,
- who: ignis scientia
no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 01:17 pm (UTC)He pulled himself up further, and also pulled her in, gently, so that he could kiss her, not just with the languidness of sleepy locking of lips, but with a depth to it, as if carving out a space for all the kisses that had been forsaken.
"I've missed you," he then said, barely a low rumble, all throat and chest as he rested his forehead against hers.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 01:33 pm (UTC)But today and yesterday had felt worse. Was she ready to look more deeply into why that was?
Of course it did, her mind whispered. Your peace was disturbed. Your routine. He threw you all off. None of it has to mean more than--
Liliana deliberately turned her thoughts away from that little whispering voice, ignoring it the same way she did the whispers of the Onakke in the Chain Veil when they got too loud again and disobeyed her commands to shut up. The same way she was ignoring that that happened at all and what it could possibly mean.
"I've missed you, too," she whispered back, eyes closing. "The last few days...I haven't liked them. Could we...not?" She wasn't even sure what to ask for or what to call it. They hadn't been fighting, which would have been easier to explain. Just...distant. "I've tried to be patient, to give you room, but I don't like it."
no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 02:09 pm (UTC)"I..." He said, marveling at it a little, because it always seemed to obvious, in retrospect, didn't it? Hindsight, twenty/twenty, hilariously ironic quips about how even a blind man should see it... "I was trying to give you room. To give you space. You were....I wasn't sure, I thought maybe you were just distracted or focused on your impending lesson, or if maybe..."
He frowned, feeling that, sometimes, trying to loosen up a tangle of knots somehow only made it tighter, if you weren't careful.
"I wasn't sure," he repeated, "so I thought I'd make myself scarce."
It was his default, really. He was always just Support as Needed. Steady, present, available, but never intrusive, unless absolutely necessary.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 02:23 pm (UTC)"I was...waiting for you," she said. "To tell me about Gladio and Nell moving in together. For you to decide what you were going to do." She shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "But you didn't say anything to me. So I...because it's...I don't know what you wish to do. Or how things will...change. And then you..."
Had started to drift away, or so it had felt.
"You didn't join me in the bath...or come to bed...you left before breakfast...And we've just been...wrong."
A jangling discordant note in a symphony that had been so beautifully simple up until that moment, an instrument suddenly out of tune.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 02:50 pm (UTC)The trailing fingers found her hair, appreciating just how nice it felt to run through it again, but then that softness worked itself into a bit of a frustrated huff.
"And I," he added, a bit more irritably, "was waiting on Gladio to inform me of the situation before proceeding myself. We all know how accurate the squirrels and the subsequent reporters can be at times, and I figured, a matter of importance like that would be brought to my attention directly, so I was proceeding with a sense of....reserved caution. But, apparently, they are still in the process of thinking it through, which is....reassuring, at least, that they're giving it due consideration..."
no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 03:10 pm (UTC)"My darling, I--" Liliana paused. Did she really want to say this? The feeling of being open, vulnerable, naked in a way she did not like grew even more. "I...like it. When you are with me." There. Less than everything, but enough to hopefully get her point across. "I didn't want you to feel obliged to join me, especially if you were working through your options. So I said I was taking a bath and assumed you'd join me if you wished. If I wanted solitude, I would have said so," she added, her shrug making her silk rustle. "And if you were restless, you should have come to bed."
She leaned in, capturing his mouth for another one of those kisses that attempted to make up for all of the ones that had been missed; they were working on quite the backlog. "I would have tried to help you sleep," she murmured. "When you...pull away from me...you..." Ugh, when had words gotten so hard? "You deny me the chance to offer you the same...care? That you lavish upon me."
A laugh, awkward for all that it pretended to be bright. "I freely admit, however, I am not so practiced as you at it and it doesn't come naturally..."
But that didn't mean she wouldn't like to...try. Sometimes. For him.
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Date: 2024-01-12 03:48 pm (UTC)He hadn't wanted that kiss to end. He wanted to cling to it, for as long as he could, so he clung to her every word that followed it instead. "I'm sorry," he breathed out, shaking his head, lightly, not wanting to sacrifice the closeness too much to do so. "I just...didn't want to get it wrong, and, in my caution, it appears as though I've only wound up at exactly that."
Not to mention that natural impulse to just insist that he didn't need that kind of care lavished on him, quelled by the memories of when he'd tried to push away the others in the aftermath of Altissia, they way they all rejected it, in their own way, and the same thing had happened then, too, hadn't it? Their synergy was off, nothing felt right, and it took a malboro nearly taking them all out for them to realize...
...and then, after that...
If they hadn't wasted so much time being so stubborn and stupid...
Ignis kissed Liliana again, but this one wasn't trying to make up for anything; this one was far more resolute and forward-thinking toward all the other kisses still to come.
"Let's not," he then murmured, "do that again. I didn't care for it at all."
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Date: 2024-01-12 04:11 pm (UTC)"I disliked it quite a bit," Liliana said, in between kisses because she was not yet ready to give up his mouth at all. "Put me quite out of sorts."
Another deep kiss, this one a silent thank you. "I got your note," she murmured. "Though it...took me awhile. To understand its true significance. I saw only the brevity, another instance of you pulling away from me, and I lost my temper. It was--I was--" A hesitation. Listen. She didn't do this, okay? Not often, and certainly not well. "It was childish of me. To Planeswalk away to Ravnica in a huff. I...am also. Sorry." She twined their fingers together again. "I do not like hurting you. And I'm...sorry. For doing that, too."
Ugh, that was terrible and she was never doing it again.
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Date: 2024-01-12 05:02 pm (UTC)"Ah, but, darling," said Ignis, feeling enough again on solid ground to at least chance a light touch of that levity he leaned so heavily on, and to once again open up the trade routes on the temporary embargos with a faint hint of smile, "didn't you know? Brevity is the soul of wit."
But after that, he softened again, underneath just that swell of gratitude that this was sorting itself out finally, with that apology, and the difficult he knew that came with it. "Thank you," he said, and, in lieu of being able to look into her eyes to express the depths of his appreciation for it, his free hand just found her cheek again with a soft brush of his thumb, but he also wasn't going to make her dwell on it or let it linger too long. "It's just....you know I worry. I can't help it..."
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Date: 2024-01-12 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 05:35 pm (UTC)But if those scorched-out, colorless eyes now staring sightlessly back at her could still manage to express anything, at that moment, to that question, it was an almost desperate indecision. An urge to slink back into the safety of avoidance, of a coy dancing around the thing that they both knew, of reminding her that she didn't really need to ask, so that the actually truth of it, the weight, the vulnerability could remain safely ensconced, protected, that he could just keep ignoring the inevitability of it...but also knowing that slinking back was almost worse than cowardly, it would mean that he'd learned nothing from the past few days, and that he just had to trust that she'd asked because his answer was what she wanted to hear, what she needed to hear, and, even more importantly, what he needed to say...
"That I might lose you, 'Iana," he whispered back, but that felt...incomplete. Insufficient. So he added, "That you might not come back."
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Date: 2024-01-12 06:07 pm (UTC)"That...that isn't how you lose me," she said, words painful and halting, like sandpaper over scars. "This ends as it always ends. When you leave."
He felt her tense, the way her body did every time she was about to Planeswalk. But she stayed, even when every muscle vibrated with the desire to run.
"It is not your presence that will end it, but your absence."
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Date: 2024-01-12 06:32 pm (UTC)And when Ignis wrapped his arms around Liliana, it wasn't to try to hold her there, but rather just to show her that he was there, even if the whole concept, to him, felt absurd, impossible to wrap his head around. Even these past few days, he may have retreated, but it wasn't his couch on which he'd finally given into the sway of heavy exhaustion, it wasn't his study he'd worn a line through in his pacing. He'd left to go to the gym to let out some pent-up energy and frustration and anxiousness, but that was only because there was no good training space at the house yet, and he'd only napped in the apartment before his class because it was convenient in relation to the gym and the school...
"There is no where else I would rather be than right here with you, Liliana," he said. "Ever at your side."
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Date: 2024-01-12 07:00 pm (UTC)"I don't know how to do this," she said and, honestly, was there no end to the indignities of these kinds of conversations? Apologies, practically begging him not to leave, now this. Part of her was cursing herself for seven kinds of fool; she had pushed the issue instead of leaving it alone, where it could have retreated, remained unsaid. Where they could have continued as they'd been, ignoring certain truths that were too complicated to deal with.
But no. For once, she'd chosen honesty and now she was...well, here.
Though 'here,' with their arms wrapped around each other, his voice rumbling in her ear, was much better than the 'here' of earlier, when she'd had her pride but not him.
Everybody always planned to stay - at least until they didn't. And she had so many reasons why a good man might not want to stay. And Urza knew, she'd rack up more. Despairing over him finding out the things she'd done on Lorwyn, on Innistrad, on Tavelia - which she didn't even remember, five months of a disturbing blankness filled with whispers - wasn't the same thing as regretting any of them. He knew of the one regret she had - but even then, didn't know the whole of it, didn't know about the destroyed sickroom and the glassy-eyed dead servants, and her brother's undead face contorted with fury.
And Liliana did what Liliana always did. She took refuge in selfishness.
"I want to keep you with me, but I'm not sure how," she said, honest at least, in the words she chose to say, even if they were hiding other, bigger, darker truths. ""More than anything else, when I was waiting for you to talk to me, I just wanted to know what you wanted. What your choice would mean. For...us."
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Date: 2024-01-12 07:50 pm (UTC)Again, the first response of his lips was isn't it obvious, what he wanted, but, again, he was starting to understand that, no, perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps she was as blind to the thing that was so monolithic and towering and absolutely unavoidable to him as he was to the rest of the world.
"I want this," he said, firmly, resolutely, but not without that flare of guilt within him, as he always would, whenever he asserted himself on something solely because it made him happy, that it made him feel fulfilled, instead of it being about someone else's contentment, comfort, safety, whatever it was being placed on his shoulders. "I want you, and me, together, here, building this house together, building this life together, and breaking ourselves free from the shackles of our previous ones."
Yes, the emphasis there was important, because while it was Liliana who had the actual contracts hanging over her head and etched into her skin, he knew he was still weighted down by the expectations of a life that no longer even existed, and it was something he'd struggled with immensely ever since he wound up here again.
"I want," and here, he laughed, a rough sound in all its wryness, "...to stop wasting money on what has essentially become a glorified storage unit, when I could be better using it to buy new coats of paint or elegant cabinet fixtures or new books for you to complain about or jewelry as elaborate to feel as it is to look at, just because I'm too afraid of having no where else to go when all....this begins to lose its sheen and luster for you."
When he, like so many other things, no doubt, over years, decades, centuries, ceased to be amusing or useful
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Date: 2024-01-12 08:15 pm (UTC)She laughed, bitter and hurting, and she wasn't even able to pretend to make it sound light and easy. "Oh my darling," she whispered. "Of the few - very few - relationships that...mattered...to me, not a single one of them ended because they lost their sheen or their luster."
She'd had more lovers than she could count, so many their names and faces tended to blend together. She'd merrily walked through gardens of broken hearts and neither noticed nor cared about her surroundings. She could be as feckless and thoughtless as he'd described, but never once for someone who had engaged her emotions as well as her body.
Those three previous relationships had all ended badly and all of them had been her fault, but never once because she had lost interest.
If it had been so simple, they wouldn't still hurt.
"You ceased to be an entertaining diversion I could leave behind on a whim...months ago. Sweet Serra, I don't know if you ever properly were. I don't know whether this says how little you think of me? Or how little you value yourself."
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Date: 2024-01-12 08:27 pm (UTC)And he had to kiss her again, because sometimes, there were no words that seemed good enough to encompass that estimation, but the feelings of passion and hunger and awe were so much easier expressed that way, as verbose and eloquent as he prided himself to be. And a kiss was also the only way he could think of, for now, in that moment, to make some sort of attempt to soothe even the smallest fraction of that hurt and pain from her.
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Date: 2024-01-12 08:39 pm (UTC)As he came in to kiss her, she murmured one word against his mouth.
"Ignis."
And it sounded, just a bit, like one might refer to a flower that so stubbornly couldn't grow until it was given all the right care and attention. Like the way a dying woman might whisper 'water' in the middle of a desert. The way one would speak the name of a lover displaced by time and space for longer than they cared to remember, delivered to them for one night.
That was the way Ignis' name fell from Liliana's lips to his.
"Ignis."
The second time she said his name, it was much simpler. That time, it simply sounded like welcome home.